“Look at these wheels,” Carpentaria cut him short. “That’s clayey mud, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where could the car have been to get that?”
“There’s that passage down under the embankment, sir, that way as leads to the river.”
“Doorkeeper,” said Carpentaria, “you are brilliant. I also have thought of that spot, where just such clay exists. But why should the car go down there?”
“Ah,” said the doorkeeper. “There you beat me, sir.”
“Then perhaps you are not so brilliant after all,” said Carpentaria.
And having minutely examined the interior of the car, with no result, he left the garage, and returned to the strong room.
The Soudanese was awaiting him at the door, and there were evident signs of a quarrelsome temper on the part of Wiggins. Wiggins had not forgotten the colour of the messenger who had handed him the forged note.
“Well?” Carpentaria asked of the Soudanese. “Where’s your brother?”